Mama Africa: the image of a South African singer, songwriter and a fierce civil rights activist reduced to the representation by a British-Nigerian actor?
The Road Home is an upcoming a musical drama, set to begin filming in June 2026, with no official release date. It explores Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela during apartheid and their pointed efforts against the regime. Makeba will be portrayed by British actress, Cynthia Erivo and Masekela by South African actor, Thabo Rametsi.
The film is written by the famous South African author, Zakes Mda and is to be directed by Bill Condon, the American director and writer behind the film adaptations of musicals, Chicago and Dreamgirls.
The casting of Erivo to portray Miriam Makeba in the film has sparked quite the conversation, with many contradicting views. Social media users asked how the lived experiences of a black South African Xhosa woman can be reimagined for the big screen by a non-South African? Of particular concern – language. You know, the “Igqirha lendlela nguqo ngqothwane” of it all.
Those concerned about the casting want a seasoned South African professional actress at the helm. There are many examples like Thuso Mbedu, Nomzambo Mbatha, and Bonnie Mbuli to name a few with international silver screen experience. However, in the film and television industry’s eyes, the value of the Xhosa tongue is nothing compared to the power of a global British passport.
While I have nothing but the best wishes for Cynthia Erivo, a talented, multi-award-winning actress with a voice like the harmony of angels. I cannot help but face the uncomfortable truth about how African legacies are portrayed in film and television. Can Erivo truly embody the linguistic and cultural texture of an iconic Xhosa woman like Makeba? A woman who was boldly and unapologetically South African.
To ignore the skills of an actress and singer-songwriter like Erivo would be to disrespect her craft. In her own pedigree, she too is an icon, a powerhouse. Erivo is no stranger to portraying legends in the music industry. One such example is her portrayal of Aretha Franklin in the National Geographic anthology series “Genuis: Aretha” (2021). Receiving an Emmy nomination for her performance.
She ticks the boxes. She will look the part; she will act the part and will most certainly sing the part, but will her singing be a mere imitation? Will she truly be able to fully embrace the South African identity that comes with Miriam Makeba’s songs that were tools to fight injustices during apartheid?
In addition to the cultural texture that accompanies a powerhouse like Makeba is also the language in which Makeba sang: isiXhosa. In her 1963 performance of “Qongqothwane” live on Ce Soir à Cannes, Makeba prefaces the performance by emphasising that the English speaker cannot say the name of the song thus they call it “the click song.” Even then, Makeba chose to proudly embrace her identity and prove that black South African culture mattered.
Miriam was defiant; she was fierce, and she was proudly a black, Xhosa South African woman even in her exile. Her songs weren’t just words on a paper; they were incantations. They were brilliant. They were the representation of the South African nation fighting against discrimination.
This is not about preference for South Africans; it is about having our cultures represented by the very people that speak and live them.
FEATURED IMAGE: Graphic of legendary South African singer Miriam Makeba, taken by Paul Weinberg and Cynthia Erivo at an FYC panel for Wicked in Santa Monica, California taken by Kevin Paul. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
At Wits, decolonisation remains incomplete as English dominance continues to limit true multilingual inclusion in learning and assessment.
In 2015, during the #FeesMustFall movement, South African universities were forced into a reckoning that extends beyond protest and policy reform. At the University of the Witwatersrand, this moment led to a language policy that introduced English, isiZulu, Sesotho, and South African Sign Language (SASL) into its academic framework. Yet, as Wits advances through its 2023 Strategic Framework, a plan guiding the university’s goals around transformation, inclusion, research, and global competitiveness, though a contradiction remains: the institution speaks of decolonising knowledge while leaving the language of learning largely unchanged.
Decolonisation without linguistic transformation is incomplete. A curriculum may diversify its content but if access to knowledge remains dependent on English, exclusion is not removed but relocated into the medium of instruction. This dynamic can be understood through what Miranda Fricker terms epistemic injustice, which is a condition in which certain forms of knowledge are undervalued because of the language in which they are expressed. In this context, students are not excluded from knowing, but from having their knowledge fully recognised unless it is articulated in English.
As Steve Biko warned, “the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed”, a condition sustained not only through content, but through the very language in which knowledge is delivered and recognised. His insistence that education must cultivate critical consciousness rather than reproduce subordination sharpens this argument: when students are compelled to translate their intellectual lives into English to be legible, the system does not liberate thought; it disciplines it.
This is not abstract. In lecture halls across Wits, language shapes how students learn and are assessed. In science and health sciences courses, students encounter, process, and are tested on complex ideas in English, even when understanding often begins in other languages during peer discussion. Learning in familiar languages can improve comprehension, participation, and confidence, reduce cognitive load and also allow students to engage more fully with complex material.
In engineering tutorials, students switch to isiZulu or Sesotho in order to unpack difficult concepts, only for that cognitive work to disappear in formal assessment, where only English counts. In Sociolinguistics, this is understood as code-switching, a skilled practice rather than a deficiency. What appears as hesitation is, in reality, intellectual labour: students are learning disciplinary content while translating it across linguistic systems; a demand not equally placed on all. They are not struggling with content; they are performing unpaid intellectual labour to make that content legible within a single dominant language.
Wits visibly acknowledges four languages on campus signage, raising questions about the absence of South Africa’s other official languages in learning and assessment. Photo: Alice Dhlamini.
This extends beyond technical disciplines and reflects a broader experience across faculties where language shapes who can fully access knowledge.
As third-year industrial engineering student Tshedza Tsiololi explains, “some engineering terms, such as dynamic system or torque, do not translate easily into everyday language… This makes learning time-consuming, especially in the absence of accessible translation tools”. This translation process carries material consequences. When comprehension is delayed, so too is performance, affecting assessment outcomes, time to completion, and the cost of education. Language barriers are therefore not only pedagogical concerns but structural inefficiencies.
The result is not a lack of understanding but a delay in it. Students carry an invisible cognitive burden, constantly translating their thinking. Language cannot be treated as a secondary issue in curriculum reform.
Language shapes how knowledge is accessed, processed, and recognised. When a medical student must translate reasoning to communicate with a patient, or an engineering student is assessed in a language that can flatten thinking processes, language becomes a gatekeeping mechanism. Yet the persistence of English is often justified through its role in global academia. While not unfounded, this argument is incomplete. Countries such as Germany, Japan, and South Korea demonstrate that strong language production can occur in national languages alongside English. Multilingualism is not a barrier to global relevance but a source of intellectual flexibility.
Wits’ current approach reflects both progress and limitations. As noted by the Head of African Languages, Dr Soyiso Khetoa, “the university’s focus on English, South African Sign Language, isiZulu, and Sesotho is informed by demographic research”. Institutional efforts, such as language-learning applications, support isiZulu acquisition. However, this raises a deeper question: what happens to students whose linguistic identities fall outside these dominant categories?
A comparative perspective complicates this further. In Tanzania, the adoption of Swahili under Julius Nyerere aimed to democratise education and strengthen national identity. This model significantly expanded access and participation at foundational levels, enabling students to learn in a familiar linguistic context. While access improved at foundational levels, challenges emerged in higher education, including limited technical terminology. This illustrates that linguistic transformation is both possible and complex, requiring sustained commitment rather than selective implementation.
Accommodation based on geographic prevalence may be efficient, but it is not neutral. It creates new margins. Students who speak other African Languages remain excluded, not because their languages lack value, but because they fall outside institutional feasibility. In this way, multilingualism risks becoming selective rather than transformative. South Africa’s own history offers parallels. Institutions such as Stellenbosch University and the University of Pretoria have shown that full academic systems can be developed in Afrikaans, raising the question of why similar levels of investment have not been extended to African languages in a democratic context, while also revealing how language can function as both inclusion and exclusion.
Bert van Pinxteren argues that expanding the language of learning is expensive and complex. “Developing academic terminology in African languages, training staff, and redesigning assessments require time and resources”, he notes. These challenges are real, but difficulty is not a justification for permanence. Technology tools, from translation software to AI-assisted terminology development, are reshaping what is feasible. The limitation is increasingly institutional: whether universities are willing to invest in systems that reflect their students’ realities.
When African languages are used informally for explanation but excluded from formal assessment, universities reinforce a hierarchy where legitimacy remains tied to English. Inclusion becomes conditional.
Restricted-access signage at Wits mirrors ongoing debates around who is fully recognised within the university’s linguistic and academic spaces. Photo: Alice Dhlamini.
The 2015 policy was a meaningful step, but without implementation, it risks becoming symbolic. If students must translate their intellectual lives into one dominant language to be recognised, decolonisation remains incomplete. The issue is the distinction between symbolic and material transformation: policy signals intent, but assessment determines whose knowledge is legitimised.
A serious commitment to transformation does not require abandoning English. It requires building multilingual academic systems where English is one of several legitimate languages of learning. This could include bilingual modules, expanded language support, and discipline-specific terminology across a broader range of African languages.
And perhaps the most uncomfortable question is this: must students once again protest to be heard? The 2015 moment demonstrated that institutional change often follows student pressure. If language remains a barrier, it raises concerns about whether dialogue alone is sufficient.
Decolonisation, if it is to mean anything, must be a dialogue, not only between institution and student, but between languages themselves. The question is not whether English will remain at Wits; it will. The question is whether students will continue to think in multiple languages but be recognised in only one language. Until students can be recognised in the languages in which they think, decolonisation remains a translation exercise, not a transformation. More fundamentally, it is whether Wits is willing to move from being a university that is merely in Africa to one that is truly of Africa.
FEATURED IMAGE: A student points toward an emergency assembly point at Wits, symbolising urgent questions around language, access, and transformation in higher education. Photo: Alice Dhlamini.
Wits journalism students confront apartheid’s execution site and argue visits should be compulsory for future reporters and lawyers.
At least 130 political prisoners were hanged there, including ANC freedom fighter Solomon Mahlangu, with many buried in unmarked graves at Rebecca Street Cemetery.
The trapdoor at Kgoši Mampuru II is now a national heritage site, but between 1960 and 1990 it executed more than 3,500 people — seven at a time.
On Wednesday, April 15, 2026, Wits Centre for Journalism students took the 52-step ascent to the gallows at Kgoši Mampuru II Correctional Centre. The trapdoor is now part of a national heritage site, but between 1960 and 1990 this room executed more than 3,500 people — seven at a time. If Wits University trains the next defenders of our Constitution, then Wits should make this site compulsory for first-year Law students and Honours Journalism students.
Department of Justice records show more than 3,500 prisoners were hanged at Pretoria Central Prison, which closed in 1996 and is now known as the Gallows Memorial Museum. At least 130 to 134 of the prisoners were political activists, including ANC freedom fighter Solomon Mahlangu. Many were buried in unmarked graves at Rebecca Street Cemetery in Mamelodi. The last political execution took place on 29 September 1989, months before the government abolished the death penalty. This was the same gallows where Kgoši Mampuru II himself was executed in 1883, and later, Daisy de Melker.
Critics may argue that the site is traumatic, or that students already study S v Makwanyane where the Constitutional Court outlawed capital punishment in 1995. However, reading a judgment is not the same as standing where the law failed. Law students practise justice in moot courts at Wits. First-year Law and Honours Journalism students must also face where justice failed. The facility is 54,3km from campus. The tour exists.
This visit should be compulsory because Law and Journalism students can’t just read about historic event. Law students will stand up in court one day to talk about people’s freedom. They need to see the room where the state used to execute people. Journalism students will write news stories about jails and courts. If the visit is optional, most students will skip it because it’s hard, but protecting the Constitution isn’t optional. If Wits wants to train lawyers and journalists who care about justice, this isn’t just an educational excursion, but foundational training. If we have never faced the state’s most final act, how can we report it with the weight it demands?
I believe education without memory is incomplete. Wits should partner with the Department of Correctional Services to include an excursion to the Gallows Memorial Museum for first-year Law students and Honours Journalism students, with proper counselling support. A Constitution written to prevent 3,500 deaths cannot be understood without confronting where those deaths happened. The law is not only in textbooks. Sometimes, it’s at the top of 52 steps.
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits Great Hall. Photo: Khutso Ngwatoana
South Africa celebrates Easter as a public holiday so why are Yom Kippur, Eid or Diwali just another day at work?
South Africa has 12 public holidays under the Public Holidays Act (No 36 of 1994). The Act recognises Easter and Christmas but does not recognise significant holy days of other major religions practiced in South Africa. Although South Africa’s constitution protects the right to religious observations, the public holiday calendar leans more towards Christianity. For a country with one of the most inclusive constitutions in the world, this appears to be a misnomer in our imagination of what our nation is and should be.
According to the DITSONG: National Museum of Cultural History , the arrival of Jan van Riebeeck marked the start of the South African colonial era and the introduction of Christianity to the region. As noted by Ancestors Research South Africa , the foundation of Christianity shaped the country’s public holiday calendar through the various colonies, as each colony observed Christian holidays before the South African Union in 1910.
Graphic showing how South Africa’s official public holidays include Christian holy days while excluding other faiths. Graphic by: Reatlehile Mashamba
Easter celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ after his sacrifice. This comes after 40 days of Lent for some Christians who use this time to reflect and fast. Easter Sunday (usually in March or April) is the biggest holy day preceded by the public holiday Good Friday and followed by Easter Monday, another public holiday.
Yom Kippur, the holiest Jewish day, known as “Day of Atonement,” is a 25 hour fast and five prayer services observance asking for forgiveness from God and people (usually in September or October). During this period, work is forbidden leading to many South African Jews taking an annual leave or a personal day off as South Africa does not consider Yom Kippur a public holiday. Eid al-Fitr (usually in April or May) an Islamic holiday that marks the end of Ramadan and celebrated with morning prayers, feasts, family gatherings and charity confirmed by the Jamiatul Ulama and not as a South African public holiday. Diwali (usually in October or November) known as “Festival of Lights” and falls on a Sunday symbolising light over darkness and good over evil. It is observed with lighting diyas, rangoli designs, exchanging sweets and prayers to goddess Lakshmi.
The Public Holidays Act does not reflect the country’s diverse religious culture. It reflects the assumption that there is only one dominant religion, Christianity, with holidays being built around that one religion while other religions must make amends to miss work. Considering South Africa’s multiculturalism, the religious calendar should include elements of each religion’s holy days allowing everyone to celebrate and understand their true meaning.
Academic, Benedict Anderson, defines a nation as an imagined community. What if in that imagination other religious holy days were made public holidays? The country would get the chance to stop and allow Jews to fast, Muslims to pray and Hindus to light up lamps while everyone else celebrates it as a long holiday.
The argument is not whether Easter should be or not be a public holiday. It is whether other religions deserve the same recognition given to Christianity. In a country as diverse as South Africa with 12 official languages and a constitution that protects religious freedom, the public holiday calendar should reflect this diversity.
With no change to the calendar, Jewish students will continue to ask for leave during test and exam season, Muslim families will continue to celebrate Eid after a long day at work, Hindu homes will continue to light up diyas at night and Easter will remain the same, a religious holiday for everyone but a holy day for Christians.
FEATURED IMAGE: Graphic titled “How South Africa’s calendar became Christian”. Graphic showing how South Africa’s official public holidays include Christian holy days while excluding other faiths. . Graphic by Reatlehile Mashamba
We used to protect our most intimate moments: grief, prayer and quiet joy within the four walls of our homes. Now, we trade them for likes. As the line between experiencing and performing life vanishes, we must ask: If everything is for sale online, does anything remain sacred?
A camera is always ready, lingering in the background to record even the smallest moments. In the age of the non-stop vlog, the boundaries of human experience are dissolving. Social media has not just given us a platform, it has turned our very existence into a product. We are no longer living our lives: we are curating them for an invisible audience that does not actually care.
William Shakespeare once wrote that “all the world’s a stage”, suggesting that we are all merely players acting out our roles. Centuries later. Sociologist Ervin Goffman expanded on this, arguing that in our social interactions, we are constantly “performing” to manage how others see us. Goffman believed we had a “front stage” for the public and a “backstage” where we could finally be ourselves. However, the digital age has effectively abolished the backstage.
Look at your feed. You will see funerals livestreamed, hospital beds used as backdrops and personal breakdowns filmed through a beauty filter. We see random acts of kindness where the camera is clearly set up before the help is even offered. In these moments, the experience itself becomes secondary. The grief is not about loss: it is about engagement. Kindness is not about the person in need: it is about the creator’s brand.
Even the sanctuary is no longer safe. Instead of lifting both hands to praise the Lord, many are now holding up a phone to take content. We see congregants capturing the choir or the sermon for their stories instead of being present in the moment. This raises a chilling question: Are we still experiencing life, or are just performing it? How is one supposed to be fully immersed in worship when they are preoccupied with the right camera angle?
A packed auditorium during a contemporary church service, featuring integrated live-streaming and digital displays. Photo: Rearabilwe Tsebela
This shift is fueled by a hungry algorithm.
Research from the University of Malta in 2025 found that the “TraumaTok” trend encourages young people to turn their private grief into public confessional narratives. This specific trend is exactly what is destroying the sacred and private nature of our lives. When we see life through a lens, we stop being participants and start being directors. We wait for the right lighting before we cry: we pause the conversation to ensure the aesthetic is correct.
This is the death of the sacred. Something is sacred precisely because is it not for public consumption. Its value lies in its privacy, the fact that it belongs only to the people in the room.
Critics will argue that social media connects us and in some ways it does. But there is a massive difference between connection and performance.
True connection happens in the unrecorded silence between two people. When we broadcast those silences, we strip them of their power. When everything becomes content, nothing feels special anymore. We are feeding a hungry algorithm with the bits of our souls that should have been kept for ourselves.
It is time to draw a hard line in the digital sand. Not every moment needs a caption. Not every heartbreak needs a story update. Not every sunset needs a filter. Some things should remain unseen, not because they lack value, but because they hold too much of it to ever be liked. In reclaiming our privacy, we might just rediscover the quiet, unrecorded beauty of being alive.
FEATURED IMAGE: A professional camera rig stands ready on a sidewalk in Braamfontein. Photo: Rearabilwe Tsebela
“A society that discourages critical thinking is unwittingly admitting that its foundations can’t survive honest examination.” – Kalen Dion
During my Undergraduate degree, I was assigned a group presentation on France’s foreign policy. It was a layered topic: one that required days of research and rigorous group meetings. One of my group mates, however, insisted on using ChatGPT to write her entire speech.
Unluckily for her, our professor happened to be an expert in French policy. Like a bloodhound, he sniffed out numerous inaccuracies in her speech. In front of the entire class, she had spewed flimsy words, inaccurate facts and false statistics from ChatGPT mindlessly. She presented the information as confidently as if she herself wrote it.
Ask anyone and they’ve probably used AI at least once. It’s so deeply entrenched in our everyday lives; it’s inescapable. When you write an email, an AI suggestion pops up recommending what to say. When you open Instagram, you’re bombarded with a surge of AI-generated reels. Even something as simple as a Google search has an automatic AI summary built in.
AI has burrowed itself so deeply into every channel of our lives that it has become difficult to imagine life without it. But is AI training us to be passive consumers of information?
A study by MIT Media Lab revealed that participants who had used AI to write their essays showed extremely low brain activity compared to those that didn’t. This was largely because they were not actively engaging with any of the material; they were simply parroting it. Ultimately, the tool that was built to supplement our thinking is, in many cases, actually replacing it.
This has dangerous repercussions for human development. If we blindly consume content generated by AI, what else will we be blind to?
In George Orwell’s infamous 1984, he depicts a totalitarian society in which independent thought is abolished under the dictatorship of Big Brother. At the time, it seemed like a fictional dystopia, a far-off tale too outrageous to be taken seriously. Now, it has bled into our reality.
It was Steve Biko who once said, “The greatest weapon in the hand of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.”
We must hold onto our vigilance. We must sharpen our minds. The world is undergoing a rapid digital shift. Our ability to think, to question what we know so that we are not mindless followers becomes our greatest and most potent weapon.
FEATURED IMAGE: Headshot of Jamie Ho, this week’s editor.
The oppressive regime of Israel echoes eerily with our own Apartheid history, calling for greater South African solidarity.
“When we choose indifference, we consent to someone else’s cruelty.”
― Lawrence Nault
Israel just passed a new law issuing the death penalty for Palestinian political prisoners, revealing a striking resemblance to South Africa’s Apartheid state.
The systemic erasure of the Palestinian people has been ongoing despite claims of a ‘ceasefire’ in October 2026. In fact, a total of 73, 000 deaths have resulted from Israeli attacks, according to a UN report.
Israel’s new death penalty doesn’t just highlight an institutional injustice but also signals an eerie repetition of history.
Hand-drawn animation of the freedom flotilla. By: Jamie Ho.
“For many years, South Africa had the doubtful honour of being a world leader in the number of judicial executions carried out,” says Deputy Minister Andries Nel. During the period from 1948 to 1994, the country, under the Apartheid regime, utilized the death penalty to suppress the political opposition of black activists.
Now the same thing is happening in Israel. The death penalty grants the Israeli state the legal authority to kill any Palestinian held in detention, many of whom have never been charged or received a fair trial. Under this mandate, systemic discrimination and genocidal violence will be a part of the Israeli constitution.
As South Africans, we are no stranger to oppressive regimes; it is a part of our history. And now history is repeating itself. We cannot be complicit.
As the fleet of over 100 boats from countries all over the world prepares to sail towards Gaza to break Israel’s siege on Palestine, the spirit of international solidarity rings clear.
The Global Sumud Flotilla is the biggest maritime mission set to disrupt Israel’s siege on Gaza with 3,000 activists sailing from 52 countries, South Africa included. The goal is to break Israel’s blockade, deliver life-saving aid and confront international complicity.
In the words of Dr Zaheera Soomar, a participant of the Flotilla, “Some moments in history demand more from us than comfort or safety. They demand conscience.”
Now more than ever, it is necessary to take a stance. Just because we are distant from the conflict doesn’t mean we can’t have an impact.
Donate to the Global Sumud Flotilla. Boycott pro-Israel organizations. Spread awareness by sharing the message. Don’t forget Palestine.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo taken outside of the Wits School of Digital Arts depicting a graffiti mural of the word ‘Free’ in solidarity with Palestine. By: Jamie Ho.
As South Africa marked the 20th edition of the Taco Kuiper Award for Investigative Journalism on March 27, the spotlight fell on the country’s top investigative reporters. Behind these award-winning stories, however, lies a less visible reality of newsrooms that are under increasing financial pressure and struggling to sustain the very work being honoured.
Jeff Wicks, an investigative journalist at News24, walked away with R200 000, while fellow investigative journalists Pieter-Louis Myburgh of Daily Maverick, Daneel Knoetze of Viewfinder, and John Eligon of The New York Times were named runners-up, each receiving R75 000.
Their work continues to hold power to account and demonstrate the courage that defines South African journalism. But behind every award-winning story is a newsroom under strain as editors, fact-checkers and institutional support goes somewhat unacknowledged.:
The Taco Kuiper Award has long celebrated individual brilliance and reinforced the importance of watchdog journalism in a democratic society. But investigative reporting is rarely the work of one person alone. It depends on the resources, time and editorial guidance that only a newsroom can provide.
Across South Africa, publications are downsizing or closing, advertising revenue is shrinking, and journalists are stretched thinner than ever. For example, Media24, the parent of News24, began consultations in February 2026 to close City Press, placing around two dozen newsroom staff at risk as part of its ongoing restructuring. The 43-year-old publication, which shifted to a digital-only model in 2024, failed to meet commercial expectations. Even digital platforms like News24, which are often held up as success stories, survive by absorbing talent and resources from declining print operations rather than from stable and well-funded growth.
This raises a critical question: while journalists are rewarded for excellence, who supports the environments that make such work possible? Recognising individuals without addressing the structural conditions of their workplace risks overlooking the challenges that threaten the future of investigative journalism.
Awards like the Taco Kuiper could evolve to reflect this reality, not by replacing individual recognition, but by expanding it to include newsroom support. This could take the form of grants for investigative teams, mentorship programs for emerging journalists, or formal recognition of editors and fact-checkers who make such reporting possible.
Celebrating great journalism is important but so is sustaining it. As we applaud Jeff Wicks and his peers, we must also ask: who celebrates the newsrooms that make their stories possible? Without these institutions, the brilliance we honour risks being an exception rather than the norm.
The annual Academy awards will finally settle the public’s burning need to know who will win the best actor category.
The 2026 Oscars Best Actor race has turned into a blockbuster showdown between Timothée Chalamet in Marty Supreme and Michael B. Jordan in Sinners. We have reached this point, because both dropped jaw-dropping performances, with Chalamet channelling a wild ping-pong hustler under Josh Safdie’s gritty lens, his third Oscar nomination after Call Me by Your Name and A Complete Unknown. Jordan slays dual roles in Sinners as vampire-hunting twins facing 1930s racism in Ryan Coogler’s epic film.
Jordan has got serious momentum after snagging the Actors Award formally known as the Screen Actors Guild Award for Best Actor. He won over Chalamet, Leonardo DiCaprio in One Battle After Another, and Ethan Hawke in Blue Moon. The Actors Award’s are purely voted by actors, who make up the Academy’s biggest voting group. That love from his peers could tip the scale big time when it comes to the Oscar’s.
Not helping Chalamet’s Oscar campaign is his recent comment about some of the most respected art forms of all time, ballet and opera. At a Variety-CNN event, he said “no one cares about” ballet or opera anymore, “with much respect,” sparking backlash from Whoopi Goldberg, Doja Cat, and arts advocates. The timing couldn’t be worse for the Oscar hopeful. This taking place during the peak of his Oscars campaign is horrible timing.
Chalamet messed up by disrespecting culturally significant art forms. Many fans were outraged and disappointed by his comments as well as confused, because his mother and sister are both trained ballet dancers.
The Oscars is no stranger to an intense battle within their categories. In 2005, Jamie Foxx and DiCaprio had a similar battle for their performances in Ray and The Aviator respectively, where everyone was waiting on the edge of their seats to know who would win.
Truth is, both gave powerful performances. Chalamet’s determination was felt through the screen, Jordan’s ability to play two convincingly different “cousins” – jaw dropping. And not to mention the other great actors in this category DiCaprio, Hawke and Wagner Moura performed brilliantly in their own right.
Whoever grabs the gold on March 16, 2026, between Chalamet or Jordan (or if it is a complete curveball), it’s a win for great acting either way.
FEATURED IMAGE: Who will win the best actor category at the 2026 Oscars. Graphic: Bonolo Mokonoto
On Monday, February 23, Gauteng Premier Panyaza Lesufi delivered the State of the Province Address (SOPA) at the Nesrec Expo Centre. It is unfortunate that he did not come well prepared to address the electricity issues currently challenging residents in this province.
Yes, the minister of electricity has put an end to nationwide load shedding. However, what are his plans for the ongoing blackouts? The stations are constrained, there are illegal connections, cable theft, the infrastructure is old, we have heard of these reasons and need solutions that will last. Renaming the problem is not solving it. Blackouts are even worse as they are unplanned and last for days on end.
We saw the headlines regarding the recovered R3 million worth of cooper cables. Premier, why did you not give us a detailed strategy on how you plan to prevent this cable theft from happening again? Strong security measures need to be implemented at cable theft hotspots. The people of Gauteng deserve to spend the electricity they pay for without paying extra for generators, solar, gas appliances, data and fast foods.
There were no funds allocated to fixing the old substations and transformers in our province, which are also reasons for the constant trips in electricity supply. Out of the 15 investments he mentioned, from water reservoirs to houses and fast trains, not one investment was allocated to this problem.
City Power in Johannesburg has been screaming “systems constrained due to rising population.” Where are the plans to address this overpopulation within the province as it is one of the major factors affecting our power supply.
The project of turning recyclable waste into energy could really benefit us. As it is currently being done in Bushbuckridge, Mpumalanga, it has proven both profitable and reliable. It would be like killing two birds with one stone as we also struggle with land pollution in Johannesburg.
As we look forward to the upcoming SOPA debates, we expect this shortcoming to be addressed in the house.
The pressure of the beauty maintenance day is piling up and emptying the pockets of many.
There was a time when “beauty maintenance” meant styling your hair and maybe getting it trimmed before school picture day. That was all that was required of you. Now? The expectations for women in particular feel endless – lashes, nails, hair, waxing, eyebrow shaping, facials, wig installs – the list just keeps growing. What used to be simple personal grooming has evolved into a full-time job, that requires a whole day off.
Let me be clear: personal grooming is important. Looking after yourself can boost your confidence, self- esteem, improve hygiene, and contribute to your overall self-care. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel put together. However, somewhere along the way, beauty maintenance stopped being about feeling good and started feeling like a requirement.
Hair being braded. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
A full “maintenance day” for me can easily cost up to R1500. That’s a significant amount of money to spend. Between work, transport, and everyday expenses, budgeting for lashes and nails every few weeks isn’t always realistic. Social media and societal pressures can make beauty maintenance feel necessary.
Nails being cured under a UVA light. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
Braamfontein and Johannesburg CBD has a huge selection of beauty salons and maintenance spots. On almost every corner there are nails, brows, or hair services on offer. The options are endless, but unfortunately, the quality isn’t always guaranteed. Many students have experienced rushed appointments, unprofessional service, or results that don’t match the price paid.
The bigger issue, though, is the societal pressure attached to it all. When i walk into a lecture hall and the majority of people have their nails done and frontals installed, it makes me feel like I do not fit in. There is this unspoken expectation that to be “put together,” you must have your lashes done, nails fresh, edges laid, and brows perfectly shaped. And for young women, especially myself, navigating identity and confidence, that pressure can weigh heavy.
A wig getting prepared to get installed. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
I think beauty regiments should be about self-expression, self-care and evoke joy. They should make you happy, not anxious about keeping up with the trends. It should feel like self-love, not a compulsory checklist, added onto your budget.
So, before you book your next appointment, do it because you genuinely love how it makes you feel, not because it’s trending.
FEATURED IMAGE: Hair being braded. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
Johannesburg’s water crisis is heavily restricting the daily lives of citizens.
For the past month, the City of Johannesburg has been struggling with a water crisis that has exposed serious cracks within local governance and infrastructure. What started off as a short outage has now spiralled out of control.
Residents have been frustrated by the lack of water services across Johannesburg the city. From Melville, Westdene, Parktown west and Emmarentia, some residents have gone more than 20 days without water.
Johannesburg can not claim to be a world- class African city, while its residents are standing in queues at water tanks for over three weeks. This lack of service delivery is inhumane. Water is a basic need, and the municipality needs to ensure at that this service is delivered to all residents efficiently.
Volunteers in Melville have organised communal water tanks with strict limits per household simply to ensure survival. For elderly residents and families with small children, the daily act of securing water has become exhausting.
Frustration has spilt onto the streets as peaceful protests are being carried out. Protests have erupted in Melville. Residents are angry at the lack of urgency shown by the government. All the while, some are missing school, work, being put through unhygienic conditions and emotional stress.
City officials point to ageing infrastructure, pressure management systems, maintenance backlogs and lack of coordination with Rand Water as part of the problem. The Government has announced intervention plans and committees aimed at stabilising the water supply. But for residents living day to day without running water, these long-term strategies offer little immediate relief.
The lack of planning and leadership is now being highlighted as residents are being impacted. The city of Johannesburg must move pass crisis management and implement sustainable and reliable service delivery.
When taps begin to run dry, this is an indication that governance has failed and South African citizens have to now pay the price.
FEATURED IMAGE: Two plastic containers of water, half empty. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
